


For Far Too Long

by paradiamond



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, New Vulcan, Post-Beyond, not really a funeral fic but it does have a funeral in the background, references to and discussion of Amanda's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7849975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim and Spock are invited to attend Ambassador Spock’s funeral on New Vulcan, it calls up old wounds and brings to light new aspects of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Far Too Long

The invitation shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is. 

Jim stares down at the padd in front of him, unsure about what he’s supposed to be feeling. They’ve been stationed at Yorktown for three weeks now. He’s usually the first one itching to get back out to space as soon as possible, but this time he doesn’t mind. Somehow, in between all the post-attack arrangements and meetings, Jim had forgotten that Ambassador Spock would have a funeral, and that he would almost certainly be invited to it. He taps his fingers on the armrest of his chair, feeling strangely empty. 

In the early days of his captaincy, he had spoken to the Ambassador fairly frequently, but as he got more comfortable and they both got busier, their communication waned, and eventually stopped. He hadn’t talked to him in over a year, and now he never will again. Dimly, he hopes that Spock did, and then realizes that if he was sent an invitation, Spock must have gotten one too. 

He stands and sets the padd on the table, making his way out of the room without a second thought. Just like on the ship, Spock’s room is right next to his own. Jim hesitates outside of his door, something he rarely does, but it occurs to him that Spock might not want to see anyone right now. But then, the door slides open anyway. 

Jim blinks, surprised. “Are you heading out or did you know I was here?” 

Spock looks back at him, one eyebrow raised. “I could hear that someone was outside the door, but I did not know it was you.” 

“Right,” Jim says, shifting slightly from foot to foot, a nervous habit Spock had pointed out to him many times. “Want to get out of here anyway? I’m sure you know why I’m standing here.” 

Spock inclines his head. “I do, and I would.” 

Jim bobs his head back and moves out of his way. “Good.” 

They walk up to the roof together, side by side. It’s not usually what Jim means by ‘let’s get out of here’ but by now they’re both used to administrative leave after yet another major incident, and what it brings. Staying in Yorktown will mean that they’re swarmed by reporters, Starfleet personnel, and normal people just wanting to thank them. Overwhelming is putting it mildly. 

Every member of the crew feels it. Jim knows that Sulu hightailed it back to earth with his family the day he was granted official leave, with Chekov not far behind. Uhura is waiting for her parents to meet up with her at the base and then they’re going to another colony. Bones is headed for Altair 9 to see his daughter. Scotty and Keenser are staying, but they’ll be with the Enterprise re-build team the whole time. 

Most of the rest of the crew is leaving as well, some going back to Earth, some just traveling. They’re using the time to leave it all behind, and to decide if they’re coming back. Jim knows that when he gets the roster for the next launch, many of the names will be different. It’s just the reality of their line of work. Jim had gone through the same thing. 

They reach the roof and go the the balcony side by side. Though this is the third time in as many weeks that they had done this, it’s still strange. There’s no sky in Yorktown, only more skyline, and the sensation of unreality only get stronger the more you look. Everything points inward, overlapping yet somehow fitting together. Jim leans against the railing, and stares out at it all. 

“I almost took a job here.” 

“I know.” 

“Guess you’ll be saying that when we get to the colony, huh?” Jim shakes his head. “Look at us.” 

Spock actually does look at him. “You plan to attend the funeral?”

Jim glances over at him. “Only if you’re going.” 

“I am,” Spock says, his tone perfectly controlled, overly controlled, even. He’s still upset. 

Jim straightens up and faces him fully. “Then yes, I plan to attend.” 

Spock nods, only slightly, a gesture he had clearly picked up from working closely with so many humans. “Perhaps we will share a transport to New Vulcan.” 

Laughter bubbles up in Jim’s chest. “Yeah, I think we probably will.” 

It occurs to him to ask about Vulcan funerals, but then he second guesses himself. It’s possible that Spock won’t want to talk about it at all. It’s also possible that he does want to talk about it but won’t be the first one to bring it up. Jim shakes his head slightly. He’s not used to feeling unsure around Spock, and he doesn’t like it. They had mostly moved past that part of their relationship, and Jim doesn’t like to think that they’re heading back, even for a little while. 

It might be unfair, but Jim depends on Spock to be there, solid and well known. Just like he depends on Bones to pick him back up, he need Spock to keep him standing. Jim glances over at Spock again, wondering what he needs Jim for, if he needs him at all. 

It’s a question for another time. Jim settles back against the railing, feeling Spock relax slightly as well. They stare out at the not-quite planet together, waiting. Eventually someone will call one of them, or something will happen, or it will just be time to leave, but for now they get to stand in comfortable silence, something that never used to be enough for Jim. He wonders when that changed, but, seeing Spock glance over at him from the corner of his eyes, he thinks that he probably already knows. 

*** 

The passenger craft that takes them to New Vulcan is on the small side, unremarkable except for its destination. The Federation is generally very careful about who and what is allowed access to the colony, and even more so after the Krall incident. Of course, as always, the time immediately following a disaster is the safest because everyone is on high alert, but it never actually feels that way. 

They reach the colony during the evening period, but even so Jim is hit with a blast of heat upon exiting. He had been prepared for it, but it’s still a physical shock. He glances over at Spock, who doesn’t comment on the change. Jim has just decided to mention it when they are intercepted by two Vulcans in robes, expressionless yet somehow still stern. It’s only seeing Spock straighten his already perfect posture that makes Jim recognize that one of them is Spock’s father. 

“Ambassador Sarek, it’s good to see you again,” Jim says, inclining his head. 

Sarek gives him an impassive look. “Captain Kirk.” 

Jim looks at the other Vulcan, but he doesn’t introduce himself. Vaguely, he has the sense that Vulcan’s don’t really do that, they _get_ introduced, but he can’t remember. Lucky for him, Spock is there. “Captain, this is Varik, a member of the council.” 

Varik turns and meets his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Jim responds by also not responding, and tries not to fidget. It’s uncomfortable, reminding Jim of some of his less successful diplomatic missions. Which reminds him in turn that he has diplomacy training. He glances over at Sarek, who is not looking at him. “How is the colony progressing?” 

“Adequately.” 

“Great,” Jim says, and even though he means it, it’s a bit difficult to keep up his enthusiasm after that rousing endorsement. “I regret that I’ve never been able to visit before now, and under better circumstances. My condolences for your loss.”

Sarek sends him a curious look that Jim is shocked to find he recognizes from Spock, even though it really shouldn’t be surprising at all. At length, Sarek inclines his head. “My thanks.” 

Jim nods back, and then Varik surprises him by mimicking the gesture before turning and walking away. Thankful that they’re doing something, Jim follows when he sees Spock move, trying to ignore the looks he’s getting and the sweat rolling down his back. They head through what seems to be the main settlement Jim had read about before leaving Yorktown. The last thing he had wanted was to be caught off guard in front of the Vulcans. It’s bad enough that he had never visited before, busy schedule or not. He privately thinks that it’s lucky they received such a respectful welcome, all things considered. 

The colony itself seems to be doing well. After four years of constant development and support from the Federation, New Vulcan has clearly moved past the survival stage of its development and into the longer term. There is a mix of temporary housing and what are clearly more permanent structures, somehow fitting together perfectly despite their obvious differences. It’s probably the uniformity, Jim thinks, watching a small group of nearly identical people walk past them. 

They come to a stop in front of a small house that looks exactly like all the other inward facing houses on the circular street. Varik inclines his head at Sarek and then leaves without another word. Jim watches him go, trying not to move or make too much noise, but he can’t help but perk up when Sarek opens the door and walks in, curiosity kicking in again. They all file into a small vestibule that is clearly intended to be a buffer between the dusty outside and clean inside. Sarek even takes off his shoes before proceeding into the rest of the house. Feeling strange, Jim does the same, and follows him. 

There are more decorations, or at least objects that seem to have little logical purpose, in Sarek’s tiny house than Jim would have expected. There is a vase with a script Jim can’t read painted on it, which is intriguing because Jim’s Vulcan isn’t bad, and a few tapestries hung along the walls. 

The house itself is very compact, with no hallways at all, just several connected spaces. Something about it strikes Jim as familiar, and it isn’t until he sees Sarek slide the door to the bathroom area open to show them where it is that it occurs to him that he’s looking at what is essentially the layout of a double wide trailer. He smiles slightly to himself, privately amused. Talk about efficiency. There’s clearly nowhere for them to stay here, which is probably why Spock had said they would be staying in the guest house. At the time, Jim had worried that it was just because Sarek didn’t want to share his home with the man who had goaded his son into nearly beating him to death. That could still be true, though. 

He’s distracted from his thoughts by the one human touch in the entire house. A picture of Amanda sits on the small shelf built above the stove, small but undeniably present. Jim glances over at Spock, who is resolutely not looking in that direction. He and his father seem to be engaging in some kind of staring contest, or maybe a conversation Jim just can’t hear, so he looks back. 

It makes him think of his own mother, and how she would carry around a picture of his dad. They didn’t have any in the house, but there was always one with Winona. He looks away, thinking that he should probably call her. He had just called her, but it was right after the Krall disaster. It had mostly been another ‘yes, I’m still alive’, call. That was that. They usually are. 

Movement catches at the corner of his eye, so Jim turns and is alarmed to see Spock walking away, out of the room. Leaving him with Sarek. Jim glances at the ambassador and then quickly away. “Uh, Spock?”

Spock looks back. “I must register us at the city central hub next door. I will return shortly, Captain.” Then he leaves. 

Jim stares at his disappearing back and wonders if it would be especially rude for him to just leave as well. He glances over at Sarek and sees him looking back. So, probably. 

Trying not to fidget, Jim nods to the room. “Thank you for having me. You have a lovely home." It's something his mother would say. 

Sarek’s eyes flicker around the space. He seems about as lost as Jim, but Jim might be reading too much Spock into him. “My thanks. To which aspects of the space do you refer?” 

Jim blinks. He looks around again but resolutely does not let his gaze linger too long on the dead wife picture this time. “Your decorations are very, uh, tasteful. Especially the tapestries. Spock has one just like them.” 

Some of Sarek’s frost seems to melt a bit, the line of his shoulders becoming less severe without actually changing. Jim wants to relax too, but doesn't dare. Without warning, Sarek moves to sit on one of the two chairs, no couches, and gestures for Jim to do the same. “I am told he also has several replicas of Vulcan weapons.” 

Jim nods, though he hadn’t realized they were replicas. “He does. They’re very impressive. Vulcan cultural history is fascinating.” 

Sarek’s eyebrows quirks upward, and Jim thinks he almost smiles, though obviously he hadn’t. “You spend quite a bit of time with my son.” 

It’s not a question, but Jim answers it anyway. “He is my first officer." 

“Of course,” Sarek responds quietly, still studying him. “I admit, Captain, that I was eager to speak with you. You occupy a central position in my son’s life.”

“I- suppose that’s true.” 

“There is no need for subterfuge, or manners, here,” Sarek says, even though Jim is one hundred percent sure that manners will always be really fucking necessary where Spock’s father is concerned. Sarek continues, either oblivious or uncaring of how weird Jim is feeling. “You are beloved of my son, and so it would be beneficial for you and I to maintain good relations.” 

Jim’s eyebrows shoot up, but he resolutely does not take that literally. He had once heard Spock use the word ‘fetish’ in a non-sexual context, which taught him not only that fetish has a non-sexual meaning, but also that connotatively speaking, Vulcans often don’t know what they’re talking about around humans. Spock had also used ‘intercourse’ and ‘penetrate’ in a similar, and just as horrifying, way too. Apparently it’s a family trait. 

Jim clears his throat. “Your son- Spock is very important to me too. Obviously I’m...saddened by the Ambassador’s death, but I mostly care here for him. To support him.” 

“I see.” Sarek leans back in his chair slightly, studying him. Jim doesn’t move. 

Thankfully, Spock comes back after only a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence. Jim feels himself perk up when he walks in, but notices that Sarek doesn’t turn around. Spock glances between them, looking like he might as well have been carved out of wood. Jim smirks at him, imagining how he would feel if he had to leave Spock alone with his mother. 

“Hey Spock, we were just talking about you,” Jim says, and smiles, because he can’t resist, not even for Spock’s father. 

Spock shoots him a look, but some of the tension seems to bleed out of him. “So I surmised.” 

Sarek continues to watch Jim, even when Spock walks around to his side. Soon after, they leave, and Jim finds himself hoping they don’t have to go back. 

***

The funeral happens, and Jim thinks it’s pretty normal in terms of how uncomfortable and sad it is in general. 

He shifts under the heat of the sun, trying and failing to get comfortable. He can never get used to them. He’s also sweating through his dress uniform and trying to make eye contact with as few people as possible. Jim sighs and lets his gaze wander over the crowd. It’s well attended, which he supposes is good, though he wonders how many of them know about the Ambassador’s identity and his relationship to Spock. 

As it turns out, Vulcan funerals aren’t much of an event. It makes sense, given how illogical funerals really are. They’re for the living, not the dead. Judging from the amount of visiting dignitaries and other assorted non-Vulcans in attendance, Jim is pretty sure that this kind of thing isn’t exactly typical here. He stands throughout the brief ceremony and wonders what they had done, if anything, after the destruction of Vulcan. How many funerals had that taken? 

After the ceremony, a human man Jim doesn’t know approaches them. “Captain Kirk.” 

Jim inclines his head. “Sir.” 

“What is it the Vulcan’s say? ‘I grieve with thee?’” he asks, and looks at Spock, who might as well be a statue at Jim’s side. 

Jim leans forward, recapturing the man’s attention and covers for him. “Yes, I believe you’re right. Rings a little more true than ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t it?” 

The man nods, and leaves after casting one last look at Spock. Jim watches him go, and sees a older Vulcan woman moving through the crowd, seeming to naturally make a path as she goes. Jim recognizes her from the pictures Spock had shown him. T’Pau, the head of his family. Spock hadn’t exactly sounded excited about the prospect of seeing her when he described that particular relationship. On some strange instinct, Jim steps forward, putting himself in between them, physically blocking Spock from sight. 

The rest of the day passes without incident, and Jim spends most of it repeating the useless platitudes he knows he’s supposed to say and occasionally remembering that the old man really is gone with a pang. At one point, he catches Sarek’s eye and is struck by what seems to be genuine emotion there, though he’s not familiar enough with him to unpack it. Jim looks away. There’s nothing he can do. Afterwards, they go back to their temporary home. 

Jim slumps down into the nondescript chair, unbuttoning the collar of his dress uniform with a scowl. He hates it, hates everything about this. Spock stays standing over by the little mantlepiece. The apartment bears a striking resemblance to Sarek’s house, except for the fact that there are two bedrooms. Sighing, Jim slides down further into the chair, wondering if Vulcan replicators are programmed for alcohol. Probably not.

“Thank you,” Spock says, suddenly and very quietly. Jim looks up and meet Spock’s serious eyes, still rimmed with strain. He doesn’t have to ask what for.

Jim blinks up at him. “I would say that you would have done the same for me, but you already did,” he says, referring to Pike’s funeral, which Jim is vaguely aware that he had attended, but the memories aren’t clear. There’s a lot from that period of time that’s hazy, if he’s honest, and Spock got him through it. 

Spock closes his eyes. “I believe the appropriate expression is, ‘what are friends for?’” 

“Exactly,” Jim answers, and drags himself up to find something constructive to do. He wanders into the kitchen and looks around. “Want tea?” 

Spock doesn’t respond, so Jim sets about making it anyway. He’s knows his mother’s family used to do this after bad things, though he thinks alcohol would have been more effective. “Maybe Spock would take hot chocolate instead,” Jim mutters to himself. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Spock says from the other room, at normal volume. 

Jim rolls his eyes and leans around the corner to see him. “Now’s the time, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Spock seems to relax a bit, some of his usual mischief coming back into his eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“But tea is better?” 

“Affirmative.” 

Jim shrugs and finishes making the extremely bland smelling drink, bringing out the pot and what he supposes are Vulcan tea cups. He sets them down on the small table in between the chairs and sits back down. Spock follows suit. Neither of them move to pick up the cups. 

“I had more stuff to talk to the old man about,” Jim says, and then frowns, not sure why he had said it. 

Spock raises an eyebrow at him for the phrasing. “As did I.”

“Not stuff from the future, or anything like that, but you know, stuff. I liked him. It just seems... wrong.” Jim shakes his head. “I mean, obviously all death feels wrong, but this doesn’t seem like something that should have happened.”

“I concur. It was abrupt,” Spock says, very quietly. 

“Did you guys talk a lot?”

Spock looks away and is silent for a long moment. Jim watches him stare out the window, out at the desert. He’s very still, all control and long lines, but Jim knows him well enough to see the undercurrent of sadness in his frame. “No, but we did communicate occasionally.” 

Jim nods and looks away. “I hadn’t talked to him in a long time either. We just kind of stopped, I guess.” 

“I believe that the Ambassador was attempting to give you space to develop independently from his influence.”

Jim frowns and looks back. “What?” 

Spock is staring at him now, a drawn look in his eye. “He was concerned that knowledge of your alternate self might unduly influence you, as he was concerned about me.”

Jim cocks his head. “He kept his distance from you?”

“Yes.”

Jim looks away, thinking about the meld again. He had imparted so much, so fast. Jim hadn’t wanted it again, but he would have liked the old man’s company. “I kind of wish he hadn’t done that.”

“So do I,” Spock responds, his fingers tightening on the armrest of the chair. Jim wants to reach out and squeeze it, or maybe clasp his shoulder, like he would for Bones, but he’s pretty sure Spock doesn’t need that right now, not if his shields are anything like Jim suspects they are at the moment. 

“I bet he could have told us some funny stories,” Jim says instead, trying to lighten the mood. It’s the only thing he knows how to do in situations like this. Give Spock the out, the mental space to process on his own, to put on a brave face. “And don’t say you wouldn’t have laughed, because I heard some things from Bones about our last mission.” 

“Of course you did, the doctor is not known for his discretion, despite his profession,” Spock responds, falling back into the comfortable pattern of complaining about Bones. Jim relaxes along with him. 

Jim waves a hand. “Don’t worry, he didn’t share any secrets. Just said you smiled.” 

“And cried,” Spock remarks without inflection. 

“Yeah.” Jim shakes his head. “Well, I can’t exactly make fun of you there, blood loss or not.” 

Spock doesn’t respond. He’s still looking in Jim’s direction, but Jim doesn’t think he’s seeing much. The tea must be getting cold. Jim reaches for it, thinking to give Spock something to do with his hands, and then stops. 

“I’m so sorry, Spock,” Jim says, quietly. 

Spock refocuses on him, his gaze piercing. Jim expects him not to respond, or to maybe point out that the Ambassador's death wasn’t his fault, but he doesn’t. 

“Thank you, Jim.” 

***

They’re not scheduled to stay on the colony for very long, which suits Jim just fine. Besides the heat and discomfort, there’s the lingering sadness, and the understandably alien nature of the colony. Glad as he is that the colony is doing well, Jim wants to go home, and barring that because of repairs, as close as he can get to it. 

The only real positive to the trip is the time he’s spending with Spock, so obviously on the day before they’re scheduled to leave, Jim wakes up and can’t find him.

Jim wanders through their tiny dwelling. Spock is always up before Jim, but he’s not around. His door is open, and he’s not there. Of course he’s a grown man, but Spock is generally very good at leaving notes when he leaves. Today there’s nothing. 

Jim’s first instinct is to go looking for him, but he doesn’t. He sits down at the little table and eats his nutritionally complete but exceedingly bland breakfast, staring off at the beige wall and thinking. Then he gets up and gathers a bag. He learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts. 

As he wanders around the little city, he doesn’t see too many people, probably because they’re busy doing actual work. It’s early still, not into the heat of the day yet, which is good because Jim is already sweating and he’d even made sure not to wear anything dark. The first place he goes is the community center, or whatever Spock had called it, but he isn’t there. Frowning, Jim turns and goes to the only other address he knows. 

Sarek’s house shouldn’t look imposing, nothing that small and efficient really should, but it definitely does. 

Jim loiters outside like a creep, not wanting to knock on the door, especially not if Spock is having a personal conversation with his dad. He looks over his shoulder and sees a Vulcan woman watching him from a window, openly curious and apparently not embarrassed at all to be caught staring. Jim raises a hand and waves to her, but she doesn’t move. 

He lowers it. “Right.” 

“Captain Kirk?” 

Jim spins around, nearly tripping over himself. “Mr. Sarek. I mean, hello, Ambassador.” 

Sarek blinks at him in silence, still standing just outside of his door. “What can I do for you?” 

“Nothing,” Jim says, too quickly. “I was just looking for Spock.” 

Sarek’s face does not change, but his eyes wander over Jim, taking in his clothes, his bag, everything. Jim shifts and tries not to feel too exposed, even though he’s pretty sure the Vulcan woman in the other house is still looking at him too. If it were anyone else, he would make a joke about being too pretty. As it is, he would rather die. 

The silence stretches, and Jim shifts his weight from foot to foot, trying and failing to get comfortable. “I thought he might be here.” 

“Logical, but he is not.” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Jim shifts the strap of his bag higher up on his shoulder, the sweat sticking to his shirt and making it difficult. 

Sarek stares at him in silence again. Jim is trying to think of another thing to say when Sarek speaks again. “Are you aware that you were the only individual to offer me condolences for the death of Ambassador Spock?” 

Jim blinks. “I- no, I was not.” 

Sarek inclines his head, still considering Jim intently. “It was somewhat illogical. My son is alive and well. The Ambassador Spock that came through the irregularity was not the same individual.” 

“I am aware of that,” Jim responds, slowly. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“You did not.” 

Jim tilts his head, doing some considering of his own. “Did you know the Ambassador well?”

A line appears between Sarek's eyebrows and then fades. “We worked together on several assignments.” 

“He kept Spock and I at arms length because he didn’t want to influence us. Maybe he was doing the same thing to you.” 

Sarek looks at Jim intently, not moving or blinking. It’s not as disconcerting as it was before. At length, he responds. “You are an unusual individual, even for a human.” 

Jim laughs before he can stop himself. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” 

“From my son, perhaps? Where will you look for Spock next?”

“Uh, I was going to head out into the desert, I guess,” Jim says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the edge of town. 

Sarek’s eyebrows furrow slightly. “Indeed?” 

“Yeah.” Jim shrugs. “Not sure exactly where he is, but-” 

“You do not need to explain. You love my son. This functions as part of your continuing efforts to support him, I assume.” 

Jim stares, and then remembers that he has to respond. “Uh, yes. He’s important to me.” 

“You are important to him as well, and it is clear that he relies on you,” Sarek says, and his the look in his eye is a little too astute for Jim’s liking. Heat rushes to his face, possibly from the heat of the day, but he wonders how much of this conversation is a misunderstanding after all. 

Jim nods, in a daze. “Well, I should probably get going.” 

Sarek nods back. “Very well. Proceed.” 

“Yup, I will,” Jim says, nodding again, and backs away. 

He gets about five steps and turns around, eager to get away from Spock’s dad more than ever, especially given the fact that he might have spent the week _meeting Spock’s dad_ in a more significant way then he’d previously thought. A drop of sweat rolls down his spine and he shivers. The Vulcan woman in the window is still there, and she arches an eyebrow at him as he passes, as if she knows exactly what had just gone down, even if Jim really doesn’t. 

***

It’s hot, mean hot, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. The worst part is that while he’s walking, there’s nothing to distract him his thoughts. Sarek had said two very alarming things in the past few days, things Jim doesn’t exactly want to be dwelling on them when he’s supposed to be finding Spock, but he can’t help it. 

Jim loves Spock? Jim is beloved of his son? Spock is definitely beloved of Jim, but the other way around? He just broke up with his long term girlfriend. If he had feelings or was aware of Jim’s, he never made it clear, not even when he and Uhura were in one of their off again periods. There has always been a tension between them, but that doesn’t mean that Spock wants to pursue it. Jim shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s difficult in the heat, everything seems larger than life, making it hard to focus, so he lets his mind wander, picking his way through the desert. 

Yet again, he thinks about the Ambassador. When he first met the old man, Jim had definitely gotten the sense in the meld that the old Spock was in love with his Kirk, but that they never got together. He never said anything about it, but there was a tension that he couldn’t hide. Jim wishes he had asked. He wishes he could talk to the old man about it, even if he didn’t want to give Jim too much information. Despite the fact that he was from the future, he believed in Jim. That was clear. After Pike died, Jim knew he still had someone else out there who believed in him. Call it daddy issues or whatever, but he did. 

Jim crests a hill and looks out over the sands. Now, he doesn’t. He doesn’t have anyone like that. Pain, unexpected and really inconvenient, sweeps through him. He’d been to the man’s funeral, talked about his death with Spock, but somehow it’s just hitting him. The Ambassador is gone. 

Eventually, Jim walks around a large bounder and finds Spock sitting on the ground, blank faced and staring out at the rocky terrain. He’s wearing one of his lightweight Vulcan outfits, all long lines and light colored fabrics. But he looks small, and Jim feels a stab of sympathy upon seeing him. All thoughts of the possible romantic implications of the visit and his own upset about the Ambassador's death fade away at the sight. 

Of course, Spock notices him right away. He looks up and blinks, surprised. Four years ago, Jim never would have been able to identify it, but he looks surprised to him now. 

“Jim,” Spock says simply, looking up at him curiously. But he seems dimmed, some of the sharpness missing from his eyes, and Jim wants to put it back. 

“Hey Spock, I was looking for you.”

“I can see that.” Spock looks him over. “You should not have, it is too warm for you.”

Jim shrugs. “Yeah, this isn’t my idea of fun really, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You have sweat running down your face.”

“Sign of a good workout,” Jim says and drops down next to him, trying not to sit on anything too pointy. “Besides,” he holds up his string bag. “I brought supplies.”

Spock raises an eyebrow at him. “I see.”

It occurs to Jim that he probably came out here to be alone. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Spock shakes his head, another gesture Jim had watched him pick up over the last few years. “It is not necessary for you to leave.”

“It’s not necessary for me to be here either,” Jim says, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “I’m just saying. I came out here to make sure you were good, and if you’d rather be alone, that’s totally fine with me, I get it. You don't have to worry about offending me, or whatever.”

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitches. “Your company is not unwelcome.”

“Ok, good. I didn’t want to, you know, ruin your day or anything.”

“You have not,” Spock says, and then hesitates. Jim waits, knowing by now that Spock wants to say something else, and eventually he does. “I did come here to get away, but not from you.”

“Oh.”

Spock nods and looks away, back out at the horizon. “Being on this planet is...more difficult than I expected.”

Jim nods. “I can imagine.”

“Can you?”

“Well, I’ve tried. I’m sure I’m not getting it right exactly, but-”

“What do you mean?” Spock asks, suddenly refocusing on him. 

Jim shrugs. “Just that I’ve tried to imagine it. What it would be like if we hadn’t been able to stop Nero. Or if he went for Earth first, and destroyed it before we knew how to stop him. I wouldn’t have lost everything that you did, my mom was off planet at the time, but I try to think about what it would be like to visit New Earth.”

“And?”

Jim shakes his head. “It’s difficult. Even to imagine it, even for a little while, it’s just hard. It wouldn’t ever be the same, even if they picked the perfect place. I don’t know if I- you’re really strong, to deal with it the way that you do.”

Spock looks away. “I do not always feel strong.”

“Tough,” Jim says, pushing against him with his shoulder. “You don’t get to decide.”

Spock glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “But you do?”

“I get to point it out,” Jim says, grinning now. “I probably don’t do it enough. You’re the backbone of the Enterprise.”

“Yet I considered leaving.”

“So did I.” Jim shrugs. “They told me it’s a normal thing.”

Spock tilts his head. “Just because a struggle is common, does not mean it is not profound.”

“I guess,” Jim says, staring out over the sand and cliffs. “Like grief.”

Spock nods. “Precisely.”

They lapse into silence, sitting shoulder to shoulder. He glances over at Spock. “Did your mom have a funeral?”

Spock meets his eyes and shakes his head. “Not on New Vulcan.”

Jim turns fully to face him. “On Earth?”

“Yes. She had several relatives still living.” Spock stares out at the desert. “I did not attend,” he says, even though Jim didn’t ask. 

Jim nods. “My mom used to have these really morbid commemoration ceremonies for my dad at the shipyard when I was a kid. I stopped going.”

“Why?”

Jim blinks. He considers playing it off, but doesn’t. He follows Spock’s gaze out into the desert, and thinks about it. Spock doesn’t ask again, doesn’t push. Finally Jim lets out a harsh breath. “They just didn’t work for me. I didn’t feel like we were achieving anything there. I guess everybody grieves differently, and that wasn’t it for me.”

“What was?”

This one Jim really doesn’t want to answer, and if it was anyone but Spock, he probably wouldn’t. But Spock is solid and warm beside him, and there, just like always, so he does. “I pour him a glass when I drink on my birthday. I think about him when I ride a bike. I-” Jim licks his lips, trying and failing to keep them moist. He should drink some water. He doesn’t move. 

“I guess I go to his grave, or his memorial, I guess, since there’s no body, sometimes.” He glances at Spock out of the corner of his eye and finds him looking back. “Your mom probably has something like that, back on Earth.”

Spock nods. “I imagine she does.”

“You’ve never checked?”

A line appears between Spock’s eyebrows, briefly. “No, I expect that it would seem similar to your father’s commemoration ceremonies to me.”

“You never knew her on Earth.”

Spock inclines his head. Jim watches him. “We could-” Jim cuts himself off.

Spock looks up, curious. “What?”

Jim shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s probably not-”

“I welcome your ideas.”

Jim blinks. Spock doesn’t. “Ok, we could make a memorial for her. Here.” Jim gestures to the desert, completely unnecessarily. “With all the Vulcan stuff.”

Spock blinks. 

“It’s probably stupid-”

“No. It is not,” he says slowly, looking around at their immediate surroundings. It’s mostly just rocks, but that’s exactly what they need. 

Jim points to a medium size one, round and mostly flat on one side. “What about that? Or is it too small?” 

“I do not think the size matters,” Spock responds, looking at it intently. Some of the tension has faded from his shoulders, making Jim all the more determined to do this is it’s what Spock wants. He digs through his bag until he finds his phaser and holds it up triumphantly. 

“Here we go!”

Spock’s eyebrows shoot up. “I am tempted to ask why you have felt the need to-” 

“You never know, Spock. I don’t just wander into deserts without any kind of protection like some people,” he teases, waving it back and forth. Spock tilts his head down and give Jim a look from a low angle, his version of rolling his eyes that Jim had seen a million times before. Jim grins. “Besides, it’s about to become very useful.” 

He crouches back down and very deliberately cracks it against another rock, breaking it so he can get at the plasma. “We can make a damn good rock cutter with this.” 

“That is a Starfleet issue phaser.” 

Jim nods, still focusing on his project. “Yup. They can deal with it.” 

Spock crouches down next to him and helps him rewire the now de-weaponized phaser. When they finish, Jim holds it out to Spock. He takes it without a word and turns to his chosen rock. Jim wonders if he should look away, or move, but Spock doesn’t ask him to, so Jim stays put as he makes precise cuts. 

**Amanda. Ko-mekh.**

Jim smiles at Spock when he straightens. He doesn’t need to ask what the second word means. “It looks good.” 

“It is adequate,” Spock says, and then tilts his head. “But I find that I am more satisfied with it then I would be if it was better made by another.” 

“That makes sense.” 

“Does it?” 

Jim sets his hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Yeah. Do you want to do anything? Say anything?” 

Spock looks back down at the memorial, plain and nestled between two other rocks. He doesn’t move away from Jim’s hand. “No. This is sufficient. Shall we return?” 

“Sure,” Jim agrees and then follows after him. Spock leads them on a different path, probably because Jim took some illogical route to get there. 

Jim follows without comment, lost in thought again. He’s exhausted, from the heat and from all the emotional strain they had gone through, but at least he’s not alone. He glances back at the memorial before they get too far away, and resolves at call his own mother when they get back to the house. Then he should probably talk to Spock about some of the things his father had said, but the thought of that sends cold fear up his spine. It’s ridiculous, but it is what it is. The last thing Jim wants to do is ruin something that had taken so long to build. 

At length, Spock glances over at him. “It is not typical for you to be so silent.” 

Jim glances over at him and smirks. “Bet it makes a nice change though.” 

“Perhaps, but I would welcome your thoughts.” 

Jim nods but continues to walk in silence for several more minutes. He has so many thoughts he doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know what’s worth saying and what’s dangerous. Spock doesn’t ask again. Eventually, Jim just starts. “If I knew you were thinking about going, I might not have stayed.” 

Spock stops to stare at him. “That is illogical.”

“Is it?” Jim meets his eyes, smiling slightly. “Maybe you being there is a condition, one that I find imperative for the effective running of my ship.”

“I am not imperative to the ship.”

“No, but that’s not what I said.” Jim shakes his head. “I need you. We need each other. I think by now we’ve proven that. What is this, our third major disaster?”

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitches. “Yes.”

“I meant it when I said we make a good team. I can’t imagine doing it without you. I mean, I’m sure I could, but I don’t want to.” 

Spock looks away, then he looks back, his gaze intense. “I find that I agree.” 

Jim looks back and waits for the ‘even though it is illogical’ part, but it doesn’t come. 

“Well, life’s too short to waste on regrets.” 

Spock looks over at him, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Jim smiles back, wide. “What?”

“A curious expression. Vulcans say ‘life is too long’ instead. Though I believe the meaning is the same,” Spock says, very softly, and reaches down to take Jim’s hand. It’s a surprise, and he knows the significance, but Jim doesn’t pull away. 

Jim thinks about the Ambassador, about everything he did, and didn’t get to do. Seemingly endless years, fulfilling but for a lack of something he could have had. This Spock watches him, patient. Always. Jim nods, resolving to talk to Spock about everything, all of it, even the stuff that his dad said when they get back to the base. When they’re not all torn up about death and everything it comes with. He’ll tell him. 

Jim smiles and tugs Spock closer. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Not nearly as fun as Developments, but I wanted to write something addressing Spock Prime's death, and how it impacted Jim as well as Spock. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for more stuff, paradiamond.tumblr.com


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